


Family First (Woe, is Me)

by thelaziesthufflepuff



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, aka atobe and tezuka are Kings, atobe and tezuka try to interact with the world on their shoulders, echizen and fuji are mentioned in passing, fuji is dead in this, the fate of japan is in their hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 12:43:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2151165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelaziesthufflepuff/pseuds/thelaziesthufflepuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tezuka Kunimitsu finds himself not alone, despite spending New Year's Eve in Hyoutei's prison cell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Family First (Woe, is Me)

**Author's Note:**

> For a prompt by Amber on Tumblr: Atobe and Tezuka in K!
> 
> Also because this is K Project, nothing is ever happy.

Tezuka dreams of fire now, of smoke wafting over abandoned buildings, solemn in their silence. It was better when Fuji was around but Fuji isn’t around-  _hasn’t been around_ \- since he made that fatal trip up the rooftop to take photos of Japan’s skyline at night, since he went up to the roof for the sole purpose of making Ryoma a birthday card with a paranomic skyline, when a simple, heartfelt Happy Birthday would have sufficed.

He can’t fault Fuji for that. Everyone in Seigaku dotes on their little prince, who joined after a series of unusual circumstances and decided never to leave their little sushi restaurant.

 

( _his clan, his family_ , he recalls the words Ryoma said through choking sobs,  _don’t send me away i don’t want to leave_ ) 

 

And so now he, Tezuka Kunimitsu, the 5th Red King, is currently sitting in Hyoutei’s prison on New Year’s Eve while Seigaku tears the city apart to look for Fuji’s murderer, the person who left Fuji to drown in his own blood after taunting them through his camera, the person who had the nerve ( _creature_ , Tezuka’s mind hisses to him,  burn him burn him burn him  _no blood no bone no ash_ )  to wish him a Merry Christmas before puncturing his left lung with a bullet. 

His cell isn’t empty though. He has a unique visitor in the form of the current Blue King, who seems to think that he is one move away from ravaging half of Japan, from overturning the entire country to search for a fugitive. 

Tezuka wishes he was joking, but unfortunately even with the Red aura affecting his mind it is impossible to miss the other man, with his coiffed hair and blindingly silver uniform (despite being the Blue clan, their uniforms are grey and white and silver and shiny enough to frighten off Strains) and his sword, Tannhauser hanging loosely from his belt, ready to be drawn in a split second and driven into his heart.

 

(His Weismann level is another worry altogether, a genuine problem and that is enough reason for him to stay in custody.) 

 

"This is not how I expected to spend my New Year’s Tezuka. Think about how many others who would beg for my company on this momentous occasion." Atobe states, eyeing Tezuka’s tired face, taking note of the shadows under his eyes and the way his eyelids droop for a moment before startling him to wakefulness. "Have you even slept these few days?"

Tezuka’s reply was a withering look that would have made a lesser man quail, but Atobe merely frowns in concern and steps closer, cataloging his condition with careful eyes that missed nothing. 

"You can’t sleep." Atobe notes. It’s not a question.

Tezuka shrugs. Insomnia is nothing new, not since the Slate has chose him. He would rather be bone-tired and awake than to sleep and find out he burned everyone he loved to ashes because of a nightmare. 

 

He always has nightmares. 

 

"Well we can’t have that. It would be an insult to Hyoutei’s hospitality if we leave a guest unsatisfied." Atobe states, as though he runs a resort and not the most well-dressed police force in Japan’s history. "Move over." 

Before Tezuka can even form words from the outraged noises burbling out of his throat, Atobe promptly shoves him on the hard mattress and proceeds to lie  _right next to him_ , like he would to a lover, and removes his glasses with a deft hand, leaving Tezuka blind and bewildered. 

"This is a good look for you, have you ever considered contacts?" Tezuka doesn’t need perfect sight to see the smirk on Atobe’s face.

"Give them back."

"Why? You don’t need them to sleep. I’ll give them back in the morning."

"I won’t be able to sleep anyway. Hand them over." Tezuka’s tone brooks no argument, but Atobe is clearly deaf, because his glasses are still not with him. 

"Do you do this to all your prisoners, or am I just special?"

"Of course you are special my dear." Atobe’s joking tone is not enough to mask the sincerity of his words, and Tezuka blushes despite himself.

"I could kill him for you. Let me help."  Atobe murmurs, deadly serious, his fingers over Tezuka’s hand, feeling the burn scars (dark and rough and stinging of desperation) that mark his fingers, his arm, his left shoulder.  

It is so tempting, with Atobe lying right next to him, calm voice in his ear. It is so easy to say yes to Atobe’s offer, to just wait for the killer’s heart to be delivered to him on a silver platter, but he knows he will never accept the offer. 

 

His clan, his responsibility. Anything else is unthinkable. 

 

"No thank you."

"Your loss." Atobe’s fingers leave his arm, and Tezuka finds himself irrationally missing it.

 

They stay awake till daybreak.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Leave kudos if you liked!


End file.
